232 Following

Ye Forestbather










The Forest






inside the acorn

all the knowledge of

the forest







Source: http://chevrefeuillescarpediem.blogspot.com




if the morning breeze

cannot comfort me

what can?











Blood splattered jeans ripped at the seams and the sand blows

After the explosions between more to come still the sand blows


And through the trees where the blossoms will come some day

He dreams of pleasant things and lips waiting but the sand blows


Not even the hardest words heard are like rockets or like missiles 

Bullets they come and they go and some stay and the sand blows


Your name has been whispered high up across the mountains 

And deep in the hearts of brave lonely men while the sand blows


Yet it is I a mere forestbather who reads paths through tall trees

Left to record stories of love never consumed for the sand blows

Sweet Rose
















her rose, her beautiful treasure

my pleasure

her fragrance luring, beguiling

tantalizing, yet her taste, veiled


The last post in February on behalf of the Carpe Diem Haiku Kai website, (link found below). and the theme is Onsen, the Japanese communal baths, carried out nude of course.


A country where people strip off to bathe or sit in steam rooms together always has a favourable edge to me. The naturist beaches of Croatia give the same flavour, one I enjoyed a few decades ago, meeting traveling people from Greece, Germany, Argentina, Hungary and Korea. There is something fun about removing clothes as a group with total strangers, though all with the common goal of travelling and experiencing.


And so I thought I would make the final post of February for CDHK one with a splash, so to speak, even if not quite a topical one...




in the company

of those just met on the road

I bare my soul










Source: http://chevrefeuillescarpediem.blogspot.com

Let Children Play



let the children play

as long as possible

on the mountain

before they get sucked in

to slave down in the city

Noble Warrior



noble Masai warrior

who walks from sunrise

across the savannah

all the way to a setting sun

miles and dreams


Haiku and the Absence of Jehovah


One of the abberations of Christianity is a main tennent of the faith: good vs evil. There is a fatal flaw in this incredibly simplistic view of things. First of all, it is totally at odds with the workings of nature, and secondly it promotes absolutism.


But the main issue with this cause and effect dichtonomy is not the weakness of it's philosophy, but it's results: without a doubt, the concept of good vs evil leads to war. To be exact it leads to many wars and has done so.


Jacques Chirac, president of France during the absurd 'freedom fries' era of he US- instigated and led invasion of Iraq often referred to a meeting with George W Bush and sidekick Dick Cheney, where two tried to press on him the apparent Biblical justifications for going to war against the 'Beast,' Sadam Hussain. He was on the plane to Paris as quick as he could be.


The concept of good and evil comes from the Middle East, and was first outlined by Zoroastriansm, up to a thousand years before Christianity.


Thankfully this dull doctrine is absent from haiku ethos, despite what are said to be connections between haiku and Buddhism, for Buddhism is represented also in Māra, a dark force. 


In fact haiku's philosophical roots are more likely traceable to Shintoism and Confucism, and perhaps to the Estonian Maausk religion, rather than any others. This absence of "lecturing" in haiku is one of the things that give it special appeal.





fresh morning snow

her buds full and flushed

ah the devil in me!







the axe hits

a scent of pine

in the winter woods




I met an American girl from Seattle who had a tattoo of Buson above her left breast, which she showed me in a bar selling craft beer in Pècs, Hungary.


Buson is one of what haiku poet Chèvrefeuille calls 'the big five' of classic haiku poetry, and indeed Buson strove to follow Bashô's footsteps in haiku, and literally, by tracing his journey in his 'Narrow Road to the Interior.'


The traveling, and in fact lengthy walking, is one of the endearing aspects of the haiku poets of the Edo period, and in my fervent opinion a necessary stage in the implementation of their craft. There is no doubt in my mind that without their traveling soul the classic haiku artists could never have launched haiku as they did.


Each may have had his or her own style, but both theme and topic of many of their haiku reflected their experience on the road or gave them a broader vision than a more sedentary lifestyle could afford. Buson's haiku were often lonely, sometimes mystical, or nostalgic. He used distance and space with ease and had a particular viewpoint that was sometimes a feature of his skill as a painter.


His haiku above, which I took the liberty of translating myself by touching up or tweeking an automatic translation, shows haiku at its finest, and is worth study in view of emulation. The haiku is somewhat similar in concept to Jane Reichhold's translation of the famous Bashô 'old pond' haiku:


old pond-

the frog leaps through

the sound of water




Admittedly this is only one version of the translated haiku, but the resonance can, I feel, be seen in Buson's 'axe' haiku.


Which brings me to my effort to walk the same path, though in a tanka, which strikes me as easier than a carefully-crafted haiku, and much less sincere, as tanka, being normally about love, need a much smaller dose of sincerity within their lines.


the woodpecker

has never sent a coherent message

through the forest

ah if I had the patience

of the tall pine tree









Source: http://chevrefeuillescarpediem.blogspot.com

The Time of Day

beyond my reach

the melting icicle

in the sunlight

forcing me to consider

each different moment





in the glimpses of spring

before spring

a well-worn winter


Ah, even pirates end up walking on well-worn paths, still dreaming of conquests undertaken on the seven seas, of bosoms nestled in far away taverns and pints of cider washed down with pints of cider bought with treasure chests of plundered trinkets.


Yes even in the silent painted innocence of the forest I allow myself the luxury of reminiscence of wilder days when the sword replaced the walking staff, where falling in love was painless (though not in memory).


"Stay the course, always stay the course." True words for the buccaneer. Keep to the bearing. Always. At sea you do not simply 'stop,' or give up. And of course the bounty is always just within one's grasp, nearly.








I read two haiku today. Two pearls that I consider the best haiku I have ever read, both by Chiyo-ni, a nun and poet, and medical doctor if I remember correctly.


Usually, I am fond of reviewing and analysing. These haiku need neither: they stand alone on their merits. Beautifully.







lies within the listener-

a cuckoo's call 




morning glories-

the truth is

the flower hates people






I do not know if I even dare attempt a tanka in her honour. Of course that is just an introduction to the homage below:




in-between the sound of the cucko's call

and a lone flower

I found a path that led me

because I let myself be led

















love is a lion

lying strong in the savannah sun

and love is sharing love







Cherry Blossoms





at the oasis

the water ripples towards me

cherry blossom toes













Source: http://chevrefeuillescarpediem.blogspot.com

The Haiku

I learnt, today, an insight from haiku master Chèvrefeuille

that the signs of the artist must not be seen in the haiku, and such 'blemishes' must not be seen on the bonsai either, no individually styled arrangements, but more a seeking of a 'natural' look, and yet containing more than a resemblance to the stylistic predomimently Japanese paintings.




In the following haiku I will try to follow this course, of providing an instant, scene or feeling, in haiku form, without injecting any of my emotion, message or ideas. Thus the meaning you may get or the picture is entirely your own as the reader. To me this places great value on the one consuming the haiku. This reasoning is absent from western thought.



to the naked eye

all that is invisible




pathways among trees

others have passed this way before

where are their haiku?




in the forest landscape

all that has made

the forest landscape




what is in the mind

and what is in the wind

-one causes the other




winter rocks and stones-

echoes of chirping birds

without sound



Source: http://chevrefeuillescarpediem.blogspot.com

Part II


a trumpet playing

in the lonely night

sounds like the ink

I paint your curves with

while the rain just pours




composed of dreams and black ink

and alpine breezes





I watch you

with your fingertips

pressing the brush,

your elegant strokes

creating mountains


When you paint, Yasuko, I see how thoughts come alive, I watch what you have to say, and the beautiful way you say it, with your paintbrush.


Your mountain painting reminds me of everything I love about you, and the soft kisses I planted on your ink-stained fingers.